Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 5 July 1895 — Page 6

WEEKLY JOURNAL

.ESTABLISHED IN 1848.

Successor to The Record, the first paper In Crawfordsvllle, established in 1831, and to The People's Press, established 1844.

PRINTED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING".

THE JOURNAL COMPANY. T. H' B. MCCAIN. President. J. A. GRKENE. Secretary.

A. A. McCAlN, Treasurer

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Indiana, as Becond-olass matter.

FRIDAY, JULY 5. 1895.

THE international revenue department of the Government has contributed this year to the receipts nearly $143,000,000 as against a little more than 5147,000,000 last year.

THE Treasury deficit for the fiscal year just closed approximately is $4'5,250,000. This added to last year's deficit of nearly §70,000,000 makes the excess of expenditures over receipts since June 30, 1SD3, about $113,250,000. The total receipts of the Government this fiscal year,exclusive of postal revenues, amount to nearly $313,000,000, and the expenditures §356.250,000. Last year the aggregate receipts, exclusive of postal revenues, were, §297,722,015), and the expenditures §307,535,279. The receipts this year, therefore, were §15,278.000 greater than last, and the expenditures about §11,275,000 less. The postal revenue deficit is about §11,000,000, which is considerably in excess of that of any recent year.

THE Terre Haute Saturday Evening Mail celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary by printing a Charity Circus Edition. It is a sixteen page paper with a handsome cover and is profuseillustrated with half tone portraits of the prominent men of the Prairie City. The has had a successful career mainly from the fact that it has always been in good hands. Its founder was Maj. O. J. Smith, now at the head of the American Press Association, and his successor was the late Perry Westfall, both born newspapermen. Since Mr. Westfall's death his son has had the management of the paper, who has had associated with him some of the best newspaper talent of Western Indiana. The edition celebrating its silver anniversary is a creditable stroke of enterprise.

MR. BALFOUR, the English statesman. has summed up in a very few words the economic judgment, as he understands it, of to-day, on the ques" tion of bimetallism. He says: "The general consensus of scientific economic opinion has now for many years been thrown with an overwhelming balance of opinion into the scale of the double standard, and I say that on that question there is practicallynow a consensus of the whole economic scientific opinion which has devoted itself to the elucidation of this problem, and any man who, in the face of that opinion, now quotes any of the old tags about demand and supply making it impossible to fix a ratio between the two metals, or such doctrines as that the interference of the State fixing prices must necessarily fail—any man who now relies upon arguments of that kind to show that the double standard is an impossible expedient, does nothing else than write himself down as an individual ignorant of the latest scientific development of political economy."

This shows that the sentiment in favor of bimetallism is growing in England and that sooner or later that country will join with Germany, France and the United States and other leading countries and agree upon an international ratio between the two metals. The 10 to tomfoolery regardless of what other nations may' do has no place in the lexicon of the genuine and sincere bimetallism e:

WHO says figures will not lie? If that story has not long since been exploded, the CRAAVKORDSVII.I.E JOURNAL has just knocked the bottom clear out of it. In a recent issue in commenting upon the decision of the Supreme Court that paid-up stock in building associations was subject to taxation, THE JOURNAL says the decision will put about §7,000,000 on the tax duplicate, and then adds: "I.t will probably add §100,000.000 to the duplicate" in that county. Montgomery county is a snug little county, and reasonably rich and prosperous, but TIIE

A BUKST OF

JouRNAi.-need

not try to make us believe that the paid-up stock in building associations amounts to §100,000,000. Perhaps, though, THE JOURNAL thought as ciphers are nothing, the adding of a few would be of no particular moment, and a string of them would look well in print.—Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.

We suppose we will never hear the end of the three extra ciphers which found their way into that seemingly innocent editorial paragraph. One thing it has done. It has drawn attention to Montgomery county as a healthy resort for prosperous building association. While the above was a whopper the New York Sun had one the other day which completely overshadowed it. Speaking of the trial trip of an electric engine somewhere down East it stated that it ran 100 miles in a minute and that the test was perfectly satisfactory. THE JOUR A'AL tips its hat to the Sun.

1

PATRIOTISM.

BY VIOLA ROSEBORO'.

[Copyright, 1895, by American Press Associa tion.

Mr. Waterman and his sister had ju: gotten off the train at a little station. How do we get to Rose Shore?'' asked the gentleman of a person in blue uniform. "Have to take the barge from here," said the authority.

Emma Waterman turned to cast lier eyes toward the blue summer sea that glinted through the trees and bushes half a mile away. "No, no, Emma," said her brother, laughing. "You haven't learned the language of the point Everytliing is nautical here. A 'barge' is one of those 'buses." And he began making his way to a capacious vehicle in which other travelers were stowing themselves.

The two were going for a month's summering to Rose Shore. Rose Shore was an out of the way bit of Atlantic coast where friends of theirs were summering, a primitive place by comparison, where they were going to stay at a primitive hotel and be quiet and rest themselves where they were quite sure that nothing would happen, or rather they were as sure of it as they could be, when Emma had an abiding conviction that some amazon was liable to leap armed from the earth anywhere or any time and marry her brother by force. As they drove through tho beautiful wild fields of hay and roses her conversation would have shown the initiated that this belief of her was even now stirring within her. "Tho Marlowes are down here, she said. "They have a cottage. Plow long since you'vo seen Laura? They come here every year now, because it is so

HE CAME TO SEE HOW SHE COULD HEMSTITCH. economical, I suppose. I wonder if Laura keeps up all that girlishness yet? She's nearly as old as I am. I remember seeing her when I was at school. They say she makes up terribly now. "Well, tho last time I saw her she didn't seem to have to make up. She was more attractive than most of the buds about. She's a wonderful woman," said her brother. "She is a wonderful piece of artificiality," said Emma, with emphasis. "Yes, she is rather artificial," said James Waterman in a conciliatory tone, but there was a note of conviction in his voice too.

If Laura Marlowe and Emma Waterman were anywhere near the same age, it was not on the basis that women are as old as they look. Emma and her brother were near the same age, but slie looked the old maid, and he had not the marks of the old bachelor. She was of that old time Boston type that shows from top to toe that beauty in that quarter is considered inferior, that pleasantness is distrusted, and that sincerity and intellectuality are supposed to inhere in broad toed shoes and abrupt, hard manners. Withal she was a good sort. James Waterman had seen too much of the world to be so distinctly Bostonian. He was a quiet, well dressed man, with shrewd, kindly gray eyes, a brown mustache touched with gray and a respectable income.

Lama Marlowe had been a beauty all her life. Just how long that was she took ill judged pains to conceal She was just that type of woman who wishes to deceive herself about anything she does not like, and in that Laura could succeed incredibly, but it is a stiffer business to deceive others. She had been too much of a belle from the time of her early teens for there to be much mystery to her world as to the number of her years, and it was folly for her to tiy to make one. Waterman had said the important thing when he declared her charming.

The events of this story took place some years ago, and if I told just when I would give data by which, with a moderate arithmetical equipment, the reader could compute how- old Laura really was, but though I deprecate her concealment I like her too much to betray her. She was a brown eyed, auburn haired, gentle, glorious beauty and the most womanish woman I ever knew. She wanted to be admired and loved by everything that breathed, and she made herself always lovable. :s People wondered, of course,' that she hadn't married, but one of her friends, a woman, said: "Laura never looked upon marriage as an achievement, but as a surrender. She has found it more of a career to be a bello than to marJy. She ought to change her views now, but she's gotten in such a fixed habit of being young and beautiful and making conquests. I don't know how she is ever going to surrender to any one unless she gets a real romantic hero, and how's any man going to be a hero these days?"

Laura had not seen the Watermans for years, and she set about making conquests anew of them with her usual assiduity, and characteristically she seemed to devote as much effort to the dry dust colored Emma as to her brother.

She sat on her own piazza with Emma one morning sewing, because Emma never sat with her hands idle, and talking kindergartens. She astonished herself with what she knew about kindergartens when she tried. James Waterman

strolled by, and Laura shifted her attitude to a prettier pose as he stopped to speak, and then called upon him to come and see how well she could hemstitch, and she made a nice showing of pretty har.us as well as of the table center she was working. Emma looked at her as if she were committing a crime and snorted audibly :is she got up, saying she must go write some letters. Laura bore her departure sweetly. She wished to please always, but as between a man and a woman there was never any doubt which she most cared about.

Waterman drew up a chair and sat down by her, and she went on hemstitching and listening. She always listened if tho man would talk. "I had a letter from Dawson this inoraiu: —hvk Dawson, you know him, don't yon? He's coming down tomorrow. Says he's got to get out of town before the beastly Fourth. It certainly is a necessity to escape all that row. I suppose the children will have some firecrackers at the hotel, and if they get too noisy I'll ran over here. May I?" "I always have a little Fourth of mjr own. It might be worse than the children's, but I hope you'll try the exchange. Laura looked at him with her usual soft smile, then dropped her thimble, and Waterman had to pick it up for her, and the conversation took a new turn when he brought it back set on his little linger and expressing incredulity as to its being big enough for any grown Woman to sew with.

When ho next saw Emma she said, "Isn't Laura Marlowe tho most smooth, deceitful thing, talking to me about kindergartens, and taking so much care of her complexion all the time, and angling after you?" "Well, Emma, I don't see anything very damaging in your specific charges, and I'm sure there is not much ground for saying she's angling after me. She'd have no use for me when she got me. She's sweet to everybody. You say that yourself." "She's got to the time now she's thinking about settling herself seriously, for all she gets herself tip to look so yoimg—young for her age that is—and I guess she thinks you are as well as she can do." "You are making a fool of yourself, Emma, about a very pleasant, gentle, pretty woman. She likes admiration she's very amiable she certainly never gave any one any ground for saying she was a husband hunter, whatever else they had against her. We all know some of the matches she has refused. "Amiable—that's her card,'' said Emma. "No one with any real feeling about anything can be so smooth to everybody. She's utterly artificial, and she'll quit refusing fine matches soon, I can tell you that, what with the money they've lost and the years she has gained."

Waterman remarked, of course, that women were wonderfully nasty to each other, and added that he was going out rowing with Laura in an hour, and that he must go see about the boat. "I don't trust her as far as I can see her,'' said Emma to herself when she was alone with her thoughts. 2 ourse she must be getting married soon. She's not going to settle down to being an old maid, as I've done. Any one would think I was 20 years older. But I'm not, and I'll keep James well in mind of her age anyhow. At his time of life he's more apt to be taken by youth than when he was younger himself. I know a heartless cat, always posmg fox bu ebody1"

James enjoyed his row with the cat. She was. a very pleasant cat, certainly. His thoughts as he took a smoke and a stroll on the beach after he had seen her home ran over the charges his sister brought against her. Was it true she had no feeling? He could not get over entirely his prejudice, inherited from Puritan ancestors, that anything agreeable must be a little false. He did not mind the little wiles and little fibs libout her age that his sister made mountains of. He liked her womanish ways and her desire to please every one, but was there any depth of feeling there? Wasn't it tine that she was artificial? There was an intensity in these meditations that might have told him that she was not all artificial that ho was paying tribute to the reality of her womanhood by the seriousness of his consideration of her moral qualities.

At home Laura was being questioned about her row by her mother. She said she had had a pleasant time, and her mother remarked impressively that James Waterman was a fine man and would make some woman a good husband. "I suppose so," said Laura and vawned. It was no news that her mother wanted her to get married. Her

DALTON SAT DOWN BESIDE HER.mother was a gentlewoman who never insisted on anything directly, but she could stick to her point indirectly a long time. Her conversation in general society was much restricted of late years by the necessity of keeping Laura's age out of sight. She did not dare talk on anything for fear of a date shoNving its snaky head. She could not emulate Laura's dexterity in avoiding the neighborhood of dates, so she kept still.

It was on the 3d of July that Dalton arrived at Rose Shore, and that day at sunset time he and Waterman strolled over to call on Miss Marlowe and watch

the sunset from her porch it was

Her

custom to hold a sort of reception there, and several people were already there when they arrived. Even Emma sat there, stiff and severe, as if the sunset itself were a frivolous display Laura had got up to show herself off. She had come with a friend of hers, Miss Anderson, who had said when she couldn't get the theater she liked an hour of Laura Marlowe. Poor Laura was looking lovely in a light lace bedecked gown, with flowers in her bosom and a soft gracious word for every one on her lips. "George, there is no one like her hasn't been these 20 years, more or less,'' Dalton whispered to Waterman. "I've been a little in love with her this long time, and I believe the disease would come to a head if I were to stay here awhile."

Waterman turned and walked away without a word. He marveled that Dalton should show himself such an offensive donkey. He'd never noticed anything of the kind in him before.

Then Laura beckoned this same objectionable Dalton, and he sat down beside her, and—you could see it even if you could not hear—plainly began to cover her with fulsome compliments, and plainly, too, she liked it. She is just an actress—a comedienne, just as that woman called her," said Waterman to hiintelf, with unnecessary bitterness. "If riie wrorries any one around it will probably be Dalton. He has tho most money.'' Waterman settled himself to enjoy the beauties of nature in the most secluded corner he could find. "I congratulate you on getting away from the Fourth, Dalton," said a young t'ellow named Nason. "I make a point of getting off as easy as I can," said Dalton. "You have to take some of it, unless you cross the water. "What a nuisance it is!" said Miss Anderson. "I suppose we'll have to strrnrl some smeii ot gunpowder even liere,'' said Nason. "Yes, you will," said Laura pleasantly. "I always have a little celebration of my own.'' "She is too young to gi%:e up her childish delight in firecrackers," whispered Miss Anderson to Emma. "Oh, I say, Miss Marlowe, that's hard on me. What do yon do it for?" Dalton spoke.

Laura sat up a little straighter in her chair, looked around her, and, by the way, drew a corner of her crape shawl that Dalton was playing with away from him. Haven't any of you ever heard of patriotism—of loving your country?" she said.

There was a laugh. Tliey all looked at her a little bewildered, a little astonished. "Beastly place," said Nason. "We are all trying to get away from it,'' said Miss Anderson. "A good deal to he said against our country," said Dalton. "I suppose so, but it has cost rivers of good blood. I love my country! 1 love it!"

Laura was speaking with a feeling very different from her usual tone. They all watched her curiously with an instinct to goad her on. "Patriotism is out of fashion. Young people now are cosmopolitan," said Emilia. "You arc letting yourself fall behind your contemporaries, Miss Marlowe.

The dart took effect, but not as any one expected it too. "My contemporaries"— Lam-a looked about her an instant, her eyes shining bright in the failing light, her small white hands clasped in her lap—"my contemporaries should have some patriotism if these others have not. I reinem-, ber the war"—her mother gave a gasp and put out her hand toward her, but Laura kept on with a quiet intensity—'' I remember when men marched away at the call of this country you think nothing of, and never came back, when patriotism cost something and the bill was paid. I saw the wounded"— She stopped suddenly. "What an impressible child you must have been!" said Dalton, with good intent. "I was, but I was big enough to scrape lint, and I knew"— Laura had began this last sentence with a sort of defiance, defiance of herself in her real uplift of patriotic feeling, and then all at once she began to cry. She got to her feet, saying: "I know you'll all think I'm crazy, but every one seems to have forgotten everything, and—and you can't, it seems to me, if you lived through all that. I—I think the southerners mast be more patriotic than we are, if they remember. Tliey fought like men anyhow. I can't bear to hear''— Lam-a stopped again. She had been alternately wipincr her eves and rollincr her liand-

S1IE DID NOT FEEL PATRIOTIC,

kerchief in a ball between her palms. She went now to the door to go in the house, only turning to say, with a little broken laugh: "I'll be back in a minute in my right mind. Don't be frightened." "You've made me feel like firing a cannon for the Fourth, Miss Laura,'' Waterman called after her, and Emma —Emma was actually wiping her eyes. She had had an blder brother killed in the war. "After all, the Fourth dates farther

oacK than iTTss Marlowe's* memory," said Miss Anderson a-j: rle to Dalton, while Waterman was engaging Mrs. Marlowe in talk. "All tJ'.' same it is a question of patriotism, •tnd I call that as gallant a charge for one's native land as I ever heard of. I'm going to order some fireworks down myself, telegraph for them tonight," said Dalton.

Miss Anderson, seeing the men had gone over to the enemy, gave up the direct attack and said she adored firoworks :uid always did think patriotism was lovely.

Laura camo back, pale, but composed and very quiet. Waterman helped out the situation by proposing that they all take a stroll down to tho boach and see the moon come up. That move helped every one and himself in particular, for he was burning with an inexplicable desire to pay the tribute of his admiration to Laura at once. He walked with her, and as the others passed out of earshot he began telling her how deeply what she had said had moved him, and how women's hearts were the true conservators of patriotism and everything else worth talking about, all with equal eloquence and incoherence.

Then Lam-a had another perfectly natural moment. She sat down on a rock and looked at him as the first rays of the b'g moon fell on them. "I don't feel patriotic now a bit," she said plaintively. "I feel as if I had burned, my ships behind me, and I wish I hadn't. I don't see how I can be old enough to remember all that.''

Waterman had to clinch his hands to keep from picking her up in his arms then and there—she was so pretty and so dear and silly. He knew now what was the matter with him—he was in love. He sat down close by her and caught her hands and told lier so. "I never was so grateful to any one for making love to me before in my life." That was Laura's first answer to his declaration, given with an odd little laugh and with sweet eyes looking into his. Her last, words that night, as he stood with her alone at lier door, were: "It's very queer to try to call you Jim but, Jim, I never should have surrendered if I hadn't J,iad that feeling that my ships were alilaze behind me and the other women were laughing at me. This is a kind of answer for them. Yes, yes, don't make a noise. You know I always liked you, and I had to love you when yon came out so strong just at this time but, Jim, I wasn't 12 years old when tho war closed.''

Jim had all the data for knowing she was 10, and he was bewildered for a minute that she should bother further with the subject. Then he recognized it as the most characteristic touch imaginable and found it charming.

The engagement was announced the next day, and from that day to this the Fourth is treated by Mr. and Mrs. Waterman as a matter for personal rejoicing. But Mrs. Waterman still veils the number of their joint celebrations in mystery, although every one remembers, of course, just when they were married, and although she can't resist educating her oldest boy in military lore with tales of war times they have again become secondhand tales—things she has heard from others. She has never surrendered completely on her chronology again.

THE FIRST CELEBRATION.

It Passed Off Much as Independence Day Does Now.

Tho people of the United States took to the Fourth of July very naturally. The first anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1777, was celebrated at Philadelphia as gayly, as prettily and as enthusiastically as though the inhabitants had had a century's practice in the art.

In the morning all the ships, the market barges and the armed galleys were drawn up in a line before the. city, with their flags and streamers flying. At 1 o'clock, the shore being lined with eager spectators, the yards were manned and each vessel in turn fired a salute of 13 guns.

When the last salute was over, congress, with a number of officers, civil and military, dined together and drank the usual patriotic toasts, each toast being followed by a discharge of artillery. And who furnished the music for the feast? Why, a band of Hessian prisoners, who had been captured a few months before at Trenton! Their music was much admired.

After dinner there was a military parade, consisting of companies of horse, a body of artillery and a brigade of regular troops from North Carolina, which was witnessed by congress and its guests from the banquet, besides nearly the whole population of the town. As night drew on the church bells were rung. As soon as it was quite dark there was mi exhibition of fireworks and a general illumination. The young and old appeared to enjov the occasion thoroughly from early morning until late in the evening.

*2 Warning Her.

Husband—You are not going to wear your lowT neck dress at the fireworks tonight, are you?

Wife—Certainly. They are going to have dancing. Husband—Well, you had better put something around your waist, or you may get burned.

Thrilled All Nations.

The astonished nations as they read that all men are created equal started out of their lethargy like those who have been exiles from childhood when they suddenly hear the dimly remembered accents of their mother's tongue.—Bancroft.

Considerate.

Kind Lady—Willie Waffles, I heard you boys tied a bunch of firecrackers to a dog's tail. Don't you think that is very cruel?

Willie Waffles—No'm. We cut it off first.

FOR calling cards see THE JOURNAL CO., PRINTERS

THE NATIONAL EMBLEM.

Mtore Than Two Years of Warfare Without a Flag.

A national ensign was not adopted till June, 1777. A glance at the promiscuous banners under which tho different American forces campaigned during the first two years of the Revolution will be found of interest at this anniversary of the birth of the nation.

The first regular battle of the war was Bunker Hill. It is not likely that there were any colors carried by the few militiamen who were hastily got together at Concord and Lexington two months before. But after the skirmishes at these places each of the colonies set np its own flag. Unfortunately descriptions of these flags were not preserved, and the information we have is very vague.

The most definite information as to American flags we get is in foreign journals at ports where American ships at that time touched. There is no satisfac­

tory information as to the standard used by the colonists at Bunker Hill, fought on June 17, 1775. Indeed it has never been proved that they had any standards, though one writer says "they were as various as the troops were motley.'' There is a picture of the battle in the rotunda, of the capitol at Washington, painted by Trumbull, the celebrated American artist of that day, in which the Americans are pictured lighting under a red flag having a white canton bearing a green pine tree. Warren is said to have reminded his troops of the motto on their standard, on one side of which was, "Qui transtulit sustinet" (He who brought us here will sustain us), and on the other, "An appeal to heaven. This appears to have been the Connecticut motto. An old lady told Mr. Lossiug, tho historian, that her father was at the battle and assisted in hoisting the flag. He described it to her. The ground was blue, with one corner quartered by the red cross of St. George, in one section of which was a pine tree.

On July 18, 1775, a standard was presented to Washington bearing the motto, "An Appeal to Heaven. On Oct. 20, 1775, a plan was suggested for a Revolutionary flag, which was a white ground and a tree in tho middle bearing the motto, An Appeal to Heaven.'' It was tho flag of American floating batteries. This was undoubtedly adopted by Massachusetts, and it was used on American ships.

In September, 1775, Colonel Moultrie, in South Carolina, had a flag made which was blue, with a white crescent in the corner. On Juno 28, 1776, this flag, with the word "Liberty" inscribed upon it, was raised on what is now Fort Moultrie. This was the first American flag displayed in the south.

The'colors of the American fleet (July, 1770) were 1 3 stripes, with a rattlesnake across, bearing the motto, "Don't Tread on Me.''

In Paul Jones' flag the stripes were alternate red and blue. The rattlesnake was a favorite device among the colonists. In 1775 an old device used in the

French and Indian war was revived,, being a rattlesnake cut into parts. Ifc was adopted by the newspapers to represent the separate colonies and with the motto, "Unite or Die."

On the 8th of February, 1776, Colonel Gadsden presented to congress a standard for the commander of the navy. It was a yellow flag, with a rattlesnake in the middle coiled ready to strike, and the motto, "Don't Tread on Me." At the equipping of a fleet a committee was appointed at Cambridge to consider a flag. The result was the union jack, coupled with 13 stripes. This was the close of the year 1775. The flag was hoisted on the 2d of January at the Cambridge camp. At the battle of Long Island, Aug. 2G, 1770, the British captured from a small band of Americans a red damask flag, with the motto, "Liberty." At the battle of White Plains, Oct. 28, 1770, the Americans carried a flag with a crossed sword and staff, with a liberty cap on the end of the staff and the motto, "Liberty or Death."

The earliest suggestion of stars in an American flag is in a standard of the Philadelphia Light horse (1774-5), though it is not probable that this influenced the design of the national flag. It was on the 14th of June, 1777, that the American congress decided on a banner. It was on that day resolved "that the flag of the 13 United States be 13 stripes of alternate red and white that the Union be 13 stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation." This design was at once promulgated, and the vast number of colonial flags bearing rattlesnakes, pine trees, union jacks and other emblems and mottoes disappeared, Ind the remainder of the war was fought but under the stars and stripes.

S. W. SAVAGE.